A Small Stand

I heard your calls from earlier. I was right here all along, just taking my time to wake up properly. When morning crept in, I pushed myself up from that orange fabric and waddled toward the coffee table. Near the leg rested that tiny, black phone tripod you always leave behind. It was folded tight and tilted sideways. I leaned my shoulder into one of its metal joints until it gave a soft click, widening just enough to steady itself. It seems sturdy enough. If you bring that recording lens back later, I suppose I have a proper perch ready.